Thomson, who started playing tennis at the age of six, just as the gangly teenager from Dunblane began to raise interest on the international tennis circuit, puts it simply: “He represented Scotland the way we want to be represented.”

“It’s devastating news that this has happened in what should have been his peak years,” he says. “Growing up, Andy Murray was the player I wanted to be. But also look at what he’s achieved, not just the wins but the way he goes about it, his humour, his support for equality, the way he shot down reporters for their comments.”

Murray’s sense of humour, most vivid in his Instagram account, is notoriously dry and, at times, has been so understated as to be missed by commentators unfamiliar with this peculiarly Scottish seam of wit. But Murray’s trademark understatement is also what endears him, especially so in Dunblane, a town too familiar with extremes. Both Murray brothers were pupils at Dunblane primary school and in class the day that Thomas Hamilton shot dead 16 children and one teacher on 13 March 1996.

Likewise, in a town that has come to expect some degree of misrepresentation, locals appreciate his authenticity: Murray’s passion on the court is real, as are his tears and his mammoth sulks.

“He’s an idol,” says Thomson. “He’s left an amazing legacy and he’s done everything he can to help younger players.”

Nicola Wishart is playing practice doubles under Josh’s instruction. Her two children, who attend Dunblane primary, also play at the club. “They found out this morning and they were really upset. It’s so sad to see him having to stop before he wants to.”

For Wishart, Murray’s impact on the next generation is inestimable: “There’s a really strong coaching programme at the club here and the kids all love it. But across the country now there’s a whole generation thinking they can be great sportspeople, watching Andy and Jamie and feeling that anything is possible.”

Andy Murray: career highlights from one of Britain’s greatest sportsmen – video

As the morning coaching sessions draw to a close, Brian Melville, a semi-professional coach who first encountered Murray as a four-year-old, describes the boy he trained regularly at the club from the age of seven: “He was just a winner. He didn’t want to be second, he wanted to win, even at that age. I called it grit and determination.”

Murray’s legacy is this: “When you think about Dunblane, you think about Andy Murray.” What is unsaid is the particular resonance of this achievement for a town that was previously synonymous with tragedy.

Along Dunblane high street, which curves down the hill from the golden postbox that commemorates Murray’s London 2012 Olympic victory, the affection and appreciation for Murray the man – as much as the player – is evident. “He’s got to look after his health,” says Mairi Ross, serving behind the counter at Fresh As A Daisy laundry. “He’s got to do it for himself and his family.”

“He’ll have other opportunities,” says her colleague Lizanne Richards. “He can go into commentating, and there are all these other things he can do. He’s got plenty of time ahead of him.” She pauses: “We just couldn’t imagine it happening to a local boy.”

Mairi Ross and Lizanne Richards at the laundry: ‘We just couldn’t imagine it happening to a local boy.’ Photograph: Murdo MacLeod for the Guardian

Val Mutch, a volunteer at the Sue Ryder shop, is pragmatic: “Enough is enough. He looked in so much pain and he’s done everything he can. He’ll be sadly missed but I don’t see him disappearing. He still has so much to give.”

“He’s been inspirational for the town,” agrees Ellen Hughes, who is organising raffle tickets. “The excitement here when he won Wimbledon, got married, had children, was incredible. He brought so much to Dunblane.”

“I also like how he’s championed women in sport,” adds Mutch. “He’s such a fair, good person. He stands up for fairness because he knows he’s got a voice now.”

Ellen agrees: “We’ve seen him develop from this wee shy person. He was so awkward at first, especially in front of the media. He’s had to grow up in public.”

BBC Scotland’s morning phone-in show posed one question on Friday: “What is your message for Andy Murray?” Callers from Elgin to Eyemouth filled the airwaves with voices choked with emotion, offering fond iterations of the same basic message: “Thank you.”